Come out of the dark,
Let me see your face,
The caller in the melancholy night.
No human throat is yours,
No melodic chords your song.
A wild cry that summons
Creeping, scuttling things
Is yours, and bright eyes
Not blinded by the brash city lights.
Your quick, neat feet step nimbly,
Darting between pools of streetlight orange,
Ears pricked for the minute sounds,
The rhythm of small lives
Beneath the riotous hubbub.
A lonely bark, a shadow
Slipping through the trees,
Echoing from the star-filled sky,
You vie with the moon
For mastery of the night.

